Pass the Puns, Please, Punk Style

It's been a long week. A long cold week. Just when I thought I had my power back on Friday, and posted about it, the Electrical company took it back. Bastards. I had power for about an hour when the world went dark again, and it wasn't fully restored until Saturday morning. The good news is, I have had power for 24 hours straight now so I am going to assume all is now well.

It had better be. Or I may hurt somebody.

As a special treat for all of your patience, and encouragement (and let's not forget about the gloating over warm temperatures) I twisted myself into a pretzel and attempted to take a picture of my fresh tattoo. Because I'm a technical moron, I haven't yet loaded my new software for the snazzy new camera my husband bought me so I had to play contortionist in front of my iMac and snap pictures of the side of my head.

While the photographic (and artistic) quality may be lacking, the evidence is not. Now the world, not just Mama Tulip who talks dirty to me on a regular basis, can see my sound lack of judgment for themselves.

My niece informed me yesterday that I am turning punk. (Good thing she doesn't know about the nipple rings.) I really need to get a skull and crossbones tattooed somewhere so that I may live up to her visions of me.

Not only do you get the to enjoy the cheese I present to you, but you can oogle my neck and make snide comments about how I'm going to be a wrinkled old woman with a penis on the side of her neck. (So says my sister.) Apparently, all tattoos start to resemble a penis once you hit a certain age. (So says my sister.)

Go nuts, enjoy. I have power, heat and a husband sound asleep in my BED. Life doesn't get much better than that.










The Founding Fathers were sitting around a table sometime in 1776, working on the constitution. It had been a long day.
Father1: Whew! It's getting rather warm in here, isn't it?
Father2: Shall I open the window?
Father1: No, that's alright. I'll just take off my jacket, and roll up my sleeves.
Father2: Hey, that's a good idea. Why don't we include that in the constitution?
Father1: What? That we're allowed to take our jackets off and roll up our sleeves while at work?

Father2: Yeah, but that doesn't sound very smooth. How about "Everyone shall have the right to bare arms?"

Pass the Puns, Please

A few questions I wouldn't mind receiving answers to on this fine Sunday morning:

Why, dammit, must my dog insist on sleeping with his ass in my nose every damn night?

And why, dammit, am I too stupid not to remember this as I give him his rawhide treat which gives him terrible gas?

Why does taking your children to an amusement park empty out your wallet faster than a tire deflating after running over a nail? (Which, yes I did this week too.)

Why, when flying through the air in a completely unsafe ride that you loved as a teenager, only makes you feel nauseous and worried about the safety of your children, who are also flying through the air with you?

Why, instead of capturing the glory of my fleeting youth at said amusement park I walked away aged, half crippled, broke, dizzy, exhausted and decidedly unyouthful?

And perhaps the biggest question of the day, why, when I see a tattoo parlor must I make an appointment to get inked again, knowing full well my darling husband is going to FUCKING kill me when he finds out?

Chew on these fine questions, dear internet, while you enjoy the cheese I present to you.

Cleaning out the aviary at a run-down zoo, the the zoo keeper finds two finches that have dropped dead from old age. He picks them up and places them in a sack. After cleaning the cage he puts the sack in his wheelbarrow and moves on to the next cage.

When he reaches the primate cage he finds two chimps who have also died of natural causes. "Waste not, want not" he says as he puts them in the sack with the finches.

Later at feeding time, he flips the dead animals in the sack, into the lions' cage.

"Bloody hell" roars the lion..."Not finch and chimps again!"

Pass the Puns, Easter Style

My husband hopped his way home this morning, bringing with him a basket full of goodies. Inside this basket was a cup of my very favorite coffee from the nearest Tim Horton's, a slightly toasted blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, and a brand spanking new digital slr camera, complete with lens and all the toys.

I love my Easter bunny.

Unfortunately, his bunny didn't think to buy an Easter present for her husband. She was too busy shopping at the last minute to fill her kiddies baskets while stuffing her face with an assortment of chocolate moose turds.

I will just have to thank my bunny by doing what rabbits do best. Fornicate. Happily. While staring at my shiny new camera.

However, being the thoughtful blogger I am, I did not forget my internet buddies. For you, I have found the finest cheese and I am here to serve it in a big shiny Easter basket.

Enjoy!

Whaddya get if you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot cross bunnies.